Standing in the middle of the square
Looking around at people everywhere
A million scenes flash before his eyes
Trying not to think of all those dreadful lies;

His dad told him to write a poem with a rhyme
Like how he thought writing without one was a crime
But all that doesn’t mean much to him now
Standing there thinking nothing but why and how;

He remembers the times she waited for him by the shop
Looking at the spot now he almost sees her in her spaghetti top
But all that is nothing more than just a distant pain
Standing there alone staring at the same spot in the rain;

The poem has long expired from the first word on
The fact of the matter is nothing more than ‘now she’s gone’
Yet lost deep in his memories he sees her again
And off he runs after her not knowing it is all in vain;